


Of Cake Pops, Vintage Shops, and Alternative Rock

by rocket__launch



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hipsters, Hipsters everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocket__launch/pseuds/rocket__launch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Jack, Happy birthday! You always said you liked Cake. :) Much love, Cassie" In which Jack and Sam find out that their surrogate daughter might possibly be a huge flaming hipster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi so on tumblr I gave someone a prompt that Cassie is actually a huge flaming hipster and I sorta wanted to expand on that so expect more chapters~! I mean i don't really expand on it in this chapter, but eh I hope you enjoy it anyways!

The clock strikes 0400 hours, but the concept of time is pretty much nonexistent to Samantha Carter as she saunters around the now empty halls of the Cheyenne Mountain Base with three lab reports in one hand, a slice of delectable pastry in another, and a certain destination in mind. She embraces the silence, since usually in the day the base is swarmed with military officers and scientists alike. The monotonous sound of her combat boots penetrates the silence as it hits the metal floor.

She heads into the briefing room (that will soon be full of activity in a just few hours) and heads over to the office not too far ahead and knocks on the rough, wooden door a few times. After a few seconds, she wonders if he’s even in his office right now on this special day, but the theory is immediately shot down when she hears a muffled “come in!” from inside.

Of course he would be inside the base at this ungodly hour of the night. Sure, he would constantly make fun of Sam for pulling all-nighters at the base, but lately, he’s been falling victim to staying at work during weird hours of the night.

“Carter!” General Jack O’Neill greets when Sam sticks her head inside his office. She scans his desk and a tall stack of dominoes stands proud on his desk, indicating that there is a lack of productivity in the General’s work.

“Sir,” she replies, stepping in all the way and letting the door close behind her. With a huge grin, she holds up the two items occupying her hands. “Happy birthday!”

She places the two items on each side of the domino tower, careful not to tip it over.

“Cake and overdue lab reports?” he asks with a satisfied smirk. “You definitely know how to touch my heart, Carter.”

“Well, sir,” she shrugs. “Almost a decade working together hasn’t gone to waste. So this is how you’ve spent the first four hours of your birthday?”

“Hey, hear me out. I also spent valuable time practicing the fine art of yo-yo…ing.”

Sam smiles as she sinks down into the comfy leather chair, appreciating his child-like demeanor, a distancing contrast to his tough status as a general in the Air Force. From the corner of her eye, she spots a gift bag at the corner of his desk, ready to be opened.

“Who’s that from?” she asks, nodding her head towards the said gift bag.

“Cassie. I haven’t gotten a chance to open it yet. But now that you’re here…”

He reaches over and grabs the card inside and hands it to Sam. In the card contains a small note in the nineteen-year-old’s near-perfect handwriting.

_Jack,_

_Happy birthday! You always said you liked Cake. :)_

_Much love,_

_Cassie_

Sam lifts her eyes to meet Jack’s, whose face is hidden away in the domino blocks.

“I’m suspicious,” Jack exclaims. “Because you don’t just stuff cake into a gift bag with tissue paper on top of it.”

To emphasize his point, he lifts Sam’s cake and waves it around before taking a bite.

“Who knows?” she asks, unsure of what to say. “It could be a nice surprise.”

“I’m gonna open it now, since you’re here to experience this with me.”

Jack grabs the gift bag with extra caution, causing her to roll her eyes.

“Oh, come on, it’s not like she planted some sort of cake bomb or something.”

“She had the power telepathy once,” he muttered with narrowed eyes.

“Just open the damn thing! Um, sir.”

With a huff, he reaches in the bag, sifting through the wrinkling tissue paper. Soon, he grabs the object of desire and pulls it out for examination. Five CD cases come into view. Upon seeing the album titles, Sam couldn’t help but snicker at Jack’s confused face. His expression wouldn’t be any more different if he got busted down to the title of Captain.

“Cake,” Sam says with a smile, reaching out to look at the albums by the band Cake: Motorcade of Generosity, Fashion Nugget, Prolonging the Magic, Comfort Eagle, and the most recent album, Pressure Chief. “Good lord, Cassandra Fraiser.”

“I don’t get it,” Jack whines, snatching the albums back, not without ceremoniously knocking down the domino tower. However, that was the least of his problems. “What does this have to do with cake, except the fact that it says ‘Cake’ on the front?”

“Seriously? You’ve never heard of Cake before?”

“I like cake?”

“No, sir, the band. The band named Cake.”

He tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy dog.

“There’s a band named Cake?”

“Yeah, they were popular a few years ago. They still are.”

A blank stare graces Jack’s face with no recognition of the band coming to his mind.

“You know the song, _Never There_?” she continues. “‘ _A golden bird that flies away, a candle’s fickle flame, to think I held you yesterday, your love was just a game’_?”

Still no recognition.

“Okay, how about _Short Skirt, Long Jacket_? ‘ _I want a girl with a mind like a diamond, I want a girl who knows what’s best_ ’?”

“Don’t we all?”

She huffs. Of course he’s never heard of them before.

“Well, sir, just give them a listen. I have absolutely no clue how you would feel about these guys. In my opinion, I think they’re catchy.”

Jack shrugs, already busy arranging his fallen stack of dominos.

“She did say I like cake,” he says. “Who knows?”

Sam smiles, standing up and getting ready to leave.

“Yes, sir. Again, happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Carter. And thanks for the actual cake! It’s chocolate, too, which makes things even better.”

“Just for you, sir. We’re still heading to O’Malley’s tonight with Daniel and Teal’c right?”

“Of course! Now go play with your doohickeys. Or even better, get your ass home. That can be my gracious birthday wish.”

Sam smiles and rolls her eyes before closing the door and once again heading out the near silent hallways, but not without her humming to the riff of one of Cake’s songs.

* * *

The day passes by, but Sam doesn’t get to see Jack until lunch because of alien devices needing to be studied. After she gets her daily portion of blue jello and the main course, she heads to the table where he sits. She couldn’t believe her ears as she hears the low humming coming from a certain general in her direction.

“Sir?” she asks. Was he humming what she thinks he was humming…? “Is that… _The Distance_ you’re humming?”

“I like them!” Jack exclaims with a mouthful of chicken. “I really like Cake. Usually, this rock and roll stuff isn’t my slice of pie, but they’re really catchy. Especially the guy’s voice.”

Sam cocks an eyebrow at him.

“You managed to listen to all four albums?”

“No, I’m on the album with the crown. You know,” Jack points a fork in her direction. “I really like that song you mentioned. The Distance.”

“Really?” Sam’s eyebrow rises further up her forehead. Teal’d would definitely be proud. “The one with the rap in the beginning? Out of all the songs, you like that one?”

“Sure! It’s a good theme song for SG-1, y’know… we’re going for distance and going for speed.”

Jack then whistles the main riff of the song, leaving Sam even more baffled. In the end, she just smiles at his enthusiastic approach to his newfound band.

“You’d better thank Cassie, then, sir,” she says, taking in a mouthful of blue jello.

“Yeah sure, you betcha.”


	2. Chapter 2

A small adrenaline rush courses through Sam as a pair of strong hands grabs her shoulders and hauls her into the house of a certain Jack O’Neill.

The door slams behind the General, whose arms are still gripping her shoulders with such force she thinks her skin is going to bruise. His face holds a disconcerting expression mixed in with pure fear. She frowns back, her heart beginning to race, expecting the worst.

“Sir?” she asks.

“I think there’s an alien entity in my house, Carter,” he replies in a low voice.

Sam blinks twice and tilts her head.

“Cassie?” she asks, remembering that the young college freshman is visiting Colorado Springs for vacation and is staying in Jack’s house for a temporary amount of time.

“Maybe. It’s an alien entity sneaking into my closet and slowly taking my flannel shirts, one by one.”

She blinks once again now wondering why the hell she was even worrying in the first place. Well, with Jack, she should expect the worse.

“If it’s just your flannels that you’re worried about, why are you about to break both my shoulders by your death grip?”

He shakes Sam back and forth a few times.

“My flannels,” he emphasizes. “They’re really important to me. Like, super-duper important.”

“I’ve never seen you wear them outside of work, sir.”

“Case in point: important.”

Sam couldn’t help but imagine Jack in an undone flannel shirt, with his sleeves rolled up and hair askew… oh damn. Sure, she shouldn’t think about her commanding officer like that, and, well… he is a very, very good-looking man and if she keeps it in her head, she’ll be okay.

(Right?)

“Are you smiling at my pain?”

Sam bites her lip and flushes at Jack’s statement, realizing that she was smiling at the thought of a disheveled Jack O’Neill in flannel. Her eyes quickly scan his body in less than a second before meeting his eyes once again.

“No, sir,” she manages to muster. “Just… thinking. Thoughts… about flannels?”

He raises a Teal’c-inspired eyebrow and she thinks that maybe, just maybe, he got a sense of the thoughts running through her mind. But Sam doesn’t have to embrace this type of awkwardness when she hears the front door open, letting in a certain nineteen-year-old freshman.

“I knew it!” Jack says, pointing at the offending party. Cassie, who is wearing a black and white flannel over a black tank top, freezes in confusion as she holds the doorknob in place. “It _is_ an alien entity.”

“What?” she asks, her eyes darting back and forth from Sam to Jack and then Jack to Sam. Sam shrugs and rolls her eyes.

“You’ve been taking my flannel shirts!”

“Sir…” Sam says, trying to interrupt him.

“Oh,” Cassie replies. “Um, sorry?”

Jack just replies with a frown and what seems to be the beginning of a pout forming in his mouth. By the looks of her contorting face, Cassie is obviously anything but apologetic.

“Come on, Jack,” she continues. “Take it as a compliment! I think they’re really nice!”

“Why don’t you get your own?”

Sam rolls her eyes. Jack is starting to sound more like a whining little kid than an Air Force General.

“They’re expensive!” Cassie exclaims. “I mean, it’s not like I’m going to actually take them with me to Nevada. And even then, you can still snatch it away from my clutches with your ability to fly here with your Air Force shenanigans fancy Black Ops training. And… beaming Asgard teleport things in space.”

He shrugs giving a very subtle hint that she is forgiven. Not that he was actually taking this whole situation seriously in the first place.

“Anyways,” Sam then says. “If he’s done being five years old, give me a hug. It’s great to see you, Cassie.”

Cassie willingly embraces her in a tight bear hug. It has been months since they last seen each other.

“It’s good to see you too, Sam.”

“When did you get so fashionable?”

Sam examines Cassie’s attire. Along with the flannel shirt and tank top, a red beanie sits atop her head as well as floral skinny jeans and Oxford shoes for her legs and feet. Hugging her neck is a pair of huge headphones.

“Practice,” the college freshman says with a smile. “And, uh, being in college?”

“Why don’t you head in your room and I’ll calm the Colonel down?”

Cassie nods, gives a quick kiss on Jack’s cheek and runs into her room. Once the coast is clear, Sam cranes her head back to Jack, whose hands are buried in his pockets. His expression now looks more thoughtful than hurt, though his almost-pout is still on his mouth.

“You know,” he then says, changing the topic from aliens taking flannel shirts to completely different. “It’s about time you call me Jack.”

“Sir?” she asks but not before him making wild gestures in front of her face.

“Ack! No! I’ll just about slice my head if I hear ‘Sir’ one more time.”

“You hear it every day at work.”

Jack huffs and rolls his eyes.

“No! Okay, what I mean is, it’s getting a little bit weary hearing sir from you especially since we’ve worked together for eight years. What’s the use?”

Sam thinks about a lot of reasons why exactly they must stick to “sir” and “Colonel,” but decides not to voice any of them.

“I’ll still have to call you ‘sir’ during work,” she says, tilting her head to the side.

“Well, _duh._ But out of the base, let’s just stick to first names, Carter.”

She narrows her eyes at him and crosses her arms.

“‘Let’s just stick to first names,’ says the man who just called me by my last name.”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m not used to it. It won’t happen again, Sam.”

“Jack.”

His eyes also start to narrow, and soot it becomes a staring contest between general and colonel, though neither can deny their close proximity to each other. Personal space clearly is being invaded as they are suddenly standing toe-to-toe.

“You’re leaning towards insubordination today,” he says in a mock warning voice.

“Well, you’re asking me to call you by your first name, _sir.”_

“Sam.”

“Jack.”

They continue to glare at each other for a few seconds until they hear a cough from the hallways. Their heads turn to see Cassie, already dressed in a tank top and sweatpants. She throws her flannel at Jack for him to catch it.

“Is everything alright, Cassie?” Sam asks, watching as Jack lifts his flannel in front of his face to inspect it.

“Are you two confessing your deep unconditional love for each other?”

Sam’s eyes widen as Jack promptly lifts the shirt down to stare at Cassie with a bewildered look.

“Cassie?”

“I’ve seen a lot of movies to know where this is going. I’m surprised you guys haven’t kissed yet.”

“He’s my commanding officer, Cass.”

The young woman shrugs.

“When did that ever get in the way?”

Silence creeps through the room as Sam steals a quick glance at Jack. Everything suddenly feels awkward now and stepping away from each other to drive distance seems appropriate for the current situation. They could see a small smirk grace Cassie’s features.

“It’s sorta like _A Room With a View,”_ she says. “Except the fiancé’s gone and we’re not in the ending where they get together yet.”

Sam blinks. She’s never heard of the movie before, but now she’s suddenly feigning great interest in it if there’s some sort of love triangle going on.

She totally isn’t a sucker for good romance films. Not at all.

“Cassie,” Jack whines. “Go away.”

“So you guys can kiss with uninhibited passion?” she asks with a wide grin.

“If you say another word, I’m going to prohibit you from wearing any more of my flannels.”

She giggles and heads back to her room, leaving Sam and Jack facing each other. They stand in silence, unsure of what to say next. Jack throws his flannel over his shoulder and buries his hands in his pockets, a common defense mechanism for dealing with any awkward situation.

“So,” Jack then says. “You came here to visit because…?”

“Oh, I just wanted to see Cassie once I heard she was visiting. And I wanted to check up on you, since SG-1’s on downtime and you weren’t in your office. So, uh, I should go—”

Her sentence is interrupted when his hands suddenly reach out to grab Sam’s jaw to pull her into a kiss. She sighs in reply, her mouth opening up and melting into his lips as she places her hands on Jack’s toned chest. Their kiss grows more passionate by the second as eight years of tension finally start fading away. Jack’s hands then takes Sam’s, their fingers entwining as they kiss, and they kiss, and they kiss.

Soon, the need for breath is apparent and their foreheads lean against each other. Jack takes his other hand and traces his fingers down the contour of Sam’s face and rests at her cheek as his thumb brushes back and forth on her lips.

“You should say,” he murmurs.

“Cassie’s gonna play the ‘I told you so,’ card.”

“Does it look like I care?”

Sam laughs as he gives her a quick kiss on the lips before taking her hand and leading her to the couch.

Oh, Cassie’s definitely going to have so much fun with this. Especially a few minutes later when she’ll find them cuddled together on the couch like two bears in the wintertime.

Finally.


End file.
